


The Glove

by GreenMeridian



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Leather Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Valery has no self control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 14:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenMeridian/pseuds/GreenMeridian
Summary: Something about the way the black leather had felt in his hand forced all reason from his mind...





	The Glove

**Author's Note:**

> Another smut offering for you all. I’ve got a few more Valoris things in the work, one of which should be ready to post by the end of the week. 
> 
> I’m also going to be binging The Terror this week, so there may possibly be some fanfic for that in the future.
> 
> Enjoy!

Valery knew immediately that he was doing something unforgivably stupid. He should have just returned Boris’ glove. But something about the way the black leather had felt in his hand forced all reason from his mind, and before he knew it he was sitting on his bed, the glove in his hand, a blush on his cheeks, and a rising sense of guilt making him feel mildly nauseous.

It wasn’t too late, he reasoned. Nobody knew he had it, he could easily go to Boris’ room right now and tell him he found it, and nobody but him would have to know about this strange episode he seemed to be experiencing.

He brought it to his face and inhaled the smell of old leather mixed with a hint of Boris’ cologne. It was impossible, he knew, but he could swear he could almost feel the heat of Boris’ hand left behind in the fur lining.

He slid it onto his own hand, enjoying the tickle of fur against his skin, marvelling at how much bigger Boris’ hand was than his own. Boris’ hands had always fascinated him. The size of them, the strength he could see there... he was admittedly more than a little fixated. Which would perhaps explain why instead of removing the glove and ending this madness, he was flexing his fingers and admiring the ease with which the soft leather moved, telling himself he wasn’t really doing anything untoward.

Sitting with the glove on his hand was affecting him far more than he would have liked to acknowledge. A sheen of sweat was gathering on his forehead and lower back and he could feel himself rapidly hardening against the zip of his trousers. Arousal had begun to dampen his guilt and shame, and he pulled the glove off and stripping himself of his clothing, feeling as though he was watching himself from above his body somewhere. 

He lay back his bed and slipped the glove back on his hand. He knew what he wanted. He knew what urge had brought him to this point. But stepping over that final boundary and actually committing to the action... it would be madness. He had to stop.

But then, was already past the point of no return, wasn’t he? He couldn’t possibly give the glove back now and he doubted he’d be able to look Boris in the eye ever again. He was condemned by his own lack of control, his own lusts... so why not take it to its logical conclusion?

He closed his eyes and stroked his collarbone gently, shivering and moaning softly. Boris was brusque and blunt but Valery had always imagined him as someone who valued slow sensuality in sex. He would take his time with his lovers, find all the spots that drove them crazy.

His gloved hand moved slowly down his chest, gliding easily over his hair. He circled his navel, barely touching, abdominal muscles clenching in response, and swept back up to teasingly stroke a nipple to hardness. The fingers of the glove were too long, and he could almost imagine that the empty tips were not under his control, that it was Boris who was exploring his body.

His entire body felt aflame, his nerves prickling with the need to be caressed by the cool leather. His hips rose and fell, slow rolling rocks into the air. His knees had drawn up too, feet flat on the bed and legs spread as if in invitation. A display for the Boris in his mind.

He left his chest and began stroking the insides of his legs concentrating on the thin skin where his inner thigh joined his body, knuckles brushing against his testicles. He cupped them, feeling the warmth of them through the leather and squeezed them gently. Somewhere in the depths of his mind he was swimming in shame, but all he could focus on was sensation, the pressure building in his balls, the exquisite tension coiling deep in his belly.

He was frantic with want, his erection thick and aching against his belly. No more teasing, he couldn’t take it a second longer. He wrapped his gloved hand around himself, bucking up into his fist, moaning through gritted teeth as the leather slid smoothly over slick flesh. God, how he wished it was Boris’ hand inside the glove, Boris’ firm grip around his cock. He stroked himself steadily, the texture of the leather against his skin making his back arch and his head fall back in sheer relish. It felt so decadent, so sensual, he had never experienced anything like it. Knowing that it was Boris’ glove, that Boris’ powerful hand had been inside of it, was terribly arousing and he felt himself rapidly approaching his destruction. He was thrusting uncontrollably into his hand now, chasing relief from the heavy swell of his balls and the insistent throb of his cock. One, two, three more strokes and he was lost, hot spurts of his release dripping down the black leather of the glove and a keening moan forcing itself from his chest.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, his bliss began to be steadily replaced by shame and guilt. God, what had he done? He was sick in the head! A pervert! He peeled the ruined glove from his hand and tossed it in the bin next to his bed. Even if it could be salvaged, he couldn’t give it back to Boris. It would be obscene, even more of a betrayal of trust as this... episode... had been. He dragged himself to the bathroom to clean up and looked at himself in the mirror, struggling to meet his own eyes. What a sorry state of a human being he was. How pathetic, to be so repressed and lonely as to do such a thing. He sighed and returned to bed. Guilt or no, a post-orgasm drowsiness was beginning to settle in and he needed to sleep. He would need his strength to get through tomorrow without making an utter fool of himself out of embarrassment in front of Boris.

——

Boris shook his head in exasperation. Valery’s door was unlocked despite his room being empty. Again. He was so naive, so trusting. Of course, he too would like to believe that here of all places it would be safe to leave unlocked rooms unattended but he knew better. Still, at least he could search Valery’s room for the documents Valery had forgotten to give him, instead of having to ask the absentminded scientist to look for them himself.

It didn’t take him long to realise that the paperwork he was looking for was not in the mess on Valery’s desk. He took the time to reorganise everything anyway, just because Valery was a slob by nature it didn’t mean Boris had to let him be one. Where else could the papers be? He glanced around the room and caught sight of the bin. Ah, of course, Valery must have accidentally thrown them away. It wouldn’t be the first time. Boris crouched down to search it, his hand freezing mid-journey as he realised what was in it. There, laying on top of what was almost certainly his documents, was a glove. His glove. Stained with what Boris recognised as... Jesus Christ, had Valery...? With his GLOVE?! 

Boris was shellshocked, his mind spluttering like an old engine as he tried to process the situation. No wonder the man had been so odd today, barely meeting his eye and even more awkward around him than normal. What in the hell was he thinking? What could have possibly possessed... And those were Boris’ favourite gloves too! He’d already resigned himself to it being lost but to know that Valery had found it and had done that instead of return it, it was impossible to comprehend. He was disturbed, infuriated, sickened...

And if he was being honest with himself... there was a hint of thrill whispering from the depths of his subconscious.

The door handle rattled and he looked up to see Valery entering the room. They both froze, Valery with his hand on the door handle and Boris crouched in front of the bin. Valery had turned a strange shade of purple and his mouth was opening and closing in shock. They stared at each other for a minute, until the protestations of Boris’ knees became too loud to ignore. He rose to his feet, a grunt of discomfort detracting slightly from the alpha male energy he was trying to project. Valery flinched.

“Let’s go for a walk, Valery. I think we need to talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> I left the ending ambiguous in case I feel like doing a follow up but for now, consider this complete!
> 
> thegreenmeridian.tumblr.com


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